


(not so) merry christmas

by solcafune



Category: haikyuu
Genre: Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Light Angst, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solcafune/pseuds/solcafune
Summary: Silence.Kenma remembered that silence to be the sound he doesn’t wanna hear again. The sound worse than someone eating nastily—a sound worse than rough papers rubbing against each other, a sound worth more than a nightmare.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	(not so) merry christmas

**Author's Note:**

> hi nana! I don't write well, but hope yo enjoy this! merry Chrysler!

A dimly lit room, with the air conditioner blasting off and the temperature higher than normal, a shuffle between the white sheets and comforter could be heard. Sounding out a grunt followed with a sigh heaved so deeply, Kenma’s expression paints out a face of someone that likes Christmas—only up until last year.

Dragging his feet to open the door of his room, fixing the same hoodie he has worn over and over again, he walked past the hallway to settle himself on the sofa in his living room.  _ Silence _ . Deafening silence is the only thing that rings in his ears.

Kenma tugs at a pillow, bringing it close to his chest, praying to God this would at least fill the void of something else that is missing—something that’s supposed to fill it up— _ someone _ , as he likes to dream about it, and he still does. 

So much for the Christmas spirit, it didn’t surprise him how the Christmas tree is fixed with lights and decoration even when he didn’t bother getting up in the morning. It was fixed by someone else that still didn’t throw away the spare key he gave on the night of 25th last year—someone that cares a lot for Kenma which confuses the thought of Kenma about where they stand—about what they are.

Christmas lights twinkling and Kenma swore, he is not fit for festivities. All of those colors and brightness just makes him wonder why holidays are celebrated yet it makes him feel nothing—like in a vacuum of space—empty, although not entirely.

This dim mood of him only started last Christmas—when he was hopeful about something deemed uncertain. Kenma was crossing the line—crossing his own limits, and at the same time hoping that someone would tell him when to stop, but there’s no one. What was there was only a catalyst that speeds up his reaction, someone that makes him exhilarated, someone that keeps him in a frenzy of emotions unbeknownst to him. Hinata Shouyou.

Kenma now falling to the comforts of his sofa, closed his eyes, relapsing to what had happened—Kenma would rather bury himself as the truth washes over him, when everything he deemed the truth was now unknown the moment he asked about what wasn’t taboo, up until he opened his mouth.

That night of the 25th of December last year, a dinner with Hinata was held in his place. Things that friends would do, as Hinata would like to emphasize. A table set for two, with Christmas decorations held in place, and a newly bought—rather ordered pasta and pizza as what they originally cooked was burned as they were busy warming each other up, and got fixated on the movie, Mean Girls, playing on the screen. 

“Didn’t know you’d like it, Kenma.”

“Who? You?”

“What?”, Hinata giggled at Kenma’s answer, and how he answered it with a straight-laced face, and to that Kenma only blushed, hiding his face with his hair that seemed to not cooperate with his man-bun, and continuously twirling his fork on the pasta at the same time. “Silly, I’m talking about the movie. Got surprised it hooked you, forgetting that we were actually cooking paella.”

“Well, I’m not sure what recipe you’ve come up with would've tasted any good considering everything always ends up salty, so I think it was okay.” Kenma replied, which earned him a forehead scrunch from the former, at which he only laughed.

“Meanie.”

“Your meanie?”

_ Silence.  _

Kenma remembered that silence to be the sound he doesn’t wanna hear again. The sound worse than someone eating nastily—a sound worse than rough papers rubbing against each other, a sound worth more than a nightmare.

That night Hinata asked Kenma to sing something for him. Kenma remembers singing to the former that night, Hinata’s head on his lap, Kenma caressing his hair as he sing:

_ you are my sunshine _

_ my only sunshine _

Hinata would smile, and falling asleep on Kenma’s lap, cherishing the Christmas night together, he would whisper to Kenma:

“Please know I’ll visit next Christmas, and that I’m so glad to be your friend, Kenma.”

After that night of the past year, nothing changed. Or maybe that  _ nothing  _ could encompass how Kenma started avoiding Hinata, how he thought that almost cutting off every possible connection with the latter was the best move he can—and maybe if this was chess, Kenma would surely be on the losing side, for running away to protect yourself is the least good solution for the problem only he has.  _ This _ to him is  _ nothing _ , as he would like to convince himself every second. It’s nothing.

Humans are selfish, and Kenma is not an exception. Is it really bad to choose not to hurt yourself, while possibly hurting someone else in the process? His selfishness brought no harm but to himself, and Hinata. The latter would nonetheless wonder what he did wrong, or maybe he actually knows it. Hinata knows what caused this, so he lets it be. For him the question will be: Is it wrong to be honest, no matter how it would hurt someone, that you don’t swing that way, that he is not gay? No matter how clear this was to him, he never said it clearly. He didn’t need to. Kenma knows, yet Kenma would still try to knock on that door, even if it was only once, hoping there was a chance for open doors that are visibly closed. 

The only thing Hinata could do to prevent the knife from cutting Kenma’s soul deeper was to give the latter the space he needs—the right to cut the ties that were only meant to serve as a reminder of something platonic—a reminder that Kenma painfully sees everyday. Hinata doesn’t pry further, he doesn’t persistently knock on Kenma’s walls, for that’s the least he could do, and yet, Kenma doesn’t know of one thing that Hinata has been enduring. As painful as Kenma’s heartbreak may be, Hinata does experience the same. Everyday he questions himself if it was his fault that one day Kenma wakes up and realizes he is feeling more than what he should be feeling. He knows it’s not his fault, but what can he do to keep his friend close to him, in the proximity that friends should have?

* * *

The sound of the microwave woke Kenma up. Apparently he accidentally dozed off on his sofa as he was trying to remember that night of a nightmare again. Standing up, he brought his phone to his hand, wondering if he should ring Hinata’s number. He knows he shouldn’t, so he doesn’t. Settling on the sofa for a while, it dawns on him. As much as he would like to drown himself in self-pity for wanting something he knows wouldn’t happen, his stomach is empty. Good thing about this  _ friendship _ that he isn’t sure if they still are, is that he got food, maybe a care package from someone he purposely pushes away. He settles in the kitchen chair, and brings out the takeout that Hinata seemed to have left behind for him to eat. Kenma stares at the pasta for a while, seemingly waiting for something else, and it once again dawns on him. Hinata is never coming for this year’s Christmas. It hurts, and it's Christmas, so it hurts more.

  
  
  
**_fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> kenhina canon, thanks.


End file.
